“Have you asked yourself recently why you need to find Grace so badly, Riley? Have your priorities changed?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is there something, or someone, missing in the life you have now? Is there something else that you might find to fill that void if you were willing to open yourself up to possibilities?”
“I like the life I have now.” Aggie sipped her tea and stared at Riley thoughtfully. Aggie had done a lot of counseling in her time and was adept at knowing when to offer opinion and when to stay quiet. Riley wished she’d stay quiet now. “My sister can’t be replaced by some man, you know, Aggie. If that’s what you’re getting at.”
“A man could give you a child of your own to love.”
“I’ll have that someday if I want it. With or without a man.” Riley took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m looking for Grace because I have to do it. She’s my sister and I need to keep trying avenues until there’s nowhere left to look, nothing left to try. I need to have that connection to her. Not just anyone. Her. I need to know who she is. Who I am.”
Aggie nodded and her sad eyes gazed out the kitchen window at an old birdhouse gracing the corner of the porch. It wasn’t just any birdhouse, but one of spectacular scale that had encompassed hours of work and planning, with different levels, and feeding porches and shuttered windows. A bird hotel, Aggie called it.
“The robins always come back here,” the old woman said. “They build a nest right inside. It’s big, the perfect size for robins. Do you know if robins mate for life?” asked the old woman.
Riley shook her head. “I don’t know. Jays do.”
The paint on the structure was now faded, cracked and peeling, but even if she and Craig were to tear down the rotting balcony, the bird hotel would have to go back to its perch because it meant so much to Aggie.
The same way its builder had meant so much to Aggie. Not that she’d ever showed favoritism with her charges, but there was something about the look in her eye, the sound of her voice whenever Robin’s name had come up. Riley remembered the way she’d looked at him when he’d come back that summer. You could see how proud Aggie was of him, despite her disappointment that he’d screwed up again.
She told Rory once that it was because Robin reminded her of the biological son who had died when he’d been the same age. They’d said her son’s death was probably a suicide, but the police had never been able to tell her for certain because he hadn’t left a note. His body had been carried off by a tide and found weeks later caught in a log boom.
“You’re thinking about him now, aren’t you?” Riley said, sorry she’d led the conversation down this path.
“Yes, I think about both of them, my poor John and Robbie. I think about them often.”
“I only knew Robin for a summer.” For the extent of what had transpired between them late one August night, certainly she had not known him well enough. That night had made her question her true character for years. That she’d asked a boy she hardly knew to sleep with her had made her question her judgment and her morals for the longest time. She’d seen herself as a mirror image of her screwed up mother where men were concerned.
No one had stayed to love and look out for Riley either, so in a way she was exactly like her mother.
“I still think of him every day, Riley. He was gifted in so many ways. A wonderful mind. Funny. A wisecracker, but never cruel. Sensitive, even. Good with his hands. His heart was always in the right place. What he could have been under different circumstances,” she lamented.
“I heard a rumor that he went to prison somewhere in Alberta.”
“That’s true. That was when I lost contact with him completely. He had a hard time, Riley. That boy had a hard life filled with neglect, abuse and poverty. Far worse than anything even you can imagine I’m sorry to say.” Aggie twisted her wrinkled, brown hands in her lap. “Have I ever told you about the letters?”
Riley’s heart did a little flip-flop in her chest. “What letters?”
Aggie bit her lip. “They started coming about a dozen years ago, each one with some cash in it. No written letter, actually, just money in a plain envelope.”
Riley crooked a brow. “Cash? How much cash, Aggie?”
“It started out small amounts. Then the amounts got bigger until the person had to start sending International money orders.”
“You’re kidding.”
She shook her head. “No. I never used the money at first. I kept it in a shoe box. I was afraid it might be tainted, you know, perhaps money from something questionable. But after several years when it just never stopped coming, I started using it to help the street kids I work with on Granville Street
. I’d buy blankets and first-aid supplies and food for their dogs and cats.”
“It must have been hard to keep that a secret, Aggie,” Riley said softly. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I was afraid to talk about it. I’ve never told anyone before, but now that money’s doing some good for others, so--”
“Someone obviously cares a lot about you.”
“I’ve been blessed,” Aggie said simply.
“You could have told me about it,” Riley gently admonished the old lady.
She chuckled. “Maybe I was afraid you’d think you’d have to match it. And you’re fiercely curious and competitive, Riley. And you always were a bit of a snoop.”
Riley grinned. “I used to be. That’s settling down somewhat, though Mary has a nasty nickname for me: Miss Encyclopedia Brown.”
Aggie bit back a smile. “It suits you. You’d have been like a dog worrying a bone wondering about this mystery benefactor. I was afraid you wouldn’t let this lie.”
Riley laughed. “You know me too well.”
“Let it lie now, dear,” Aggie urged. “I’ll just deny it if you mention it again. And don’t tell anyone else.”
“Maybe someday you’ll find out who it is.”
“In my heart I know who it is.”
Riley shook her head, running a finger over the crocheted place mat. “Not Robin Butler. Aggie, it couldn’t be--”
“It could,” she asserted.
“You think our dear little Robin Hood is bilking the rich to give to the poor?” Riley scoffed.
Aggie just smiled. “He may well be a very successful man these days. I pray that’s true.”
Riley frowned and reached for another pastry. She almost considered telling Aggie about the man she’d met the night before, the tall, devastatingly attractive man who claimed to be from a well-to-do family back East. The man she imagined could be some sort of con man. But it would be silly to mention Robert Murphy to Aggie. Silly to say that he reminded her of a boy she hadn’t seen since she was a kid.
Just as it had never been of any use to tell Aggie what had happened between her and Robin Butler that long ago summer. Or what pain had ensued after he’d packed his bags and disappeared for good the following day.
~ * ~
Otis was either going to laugh his ass off or fly off the handle and drag him home. So far Rob had made not an inch of headway with Belinda. She’d barely spared him a glance.
Sometimes shit came together and sometimes it just fell apart. Maybe this was one of those fall-apart times. It was going to tick off Otis. For now Rob thought he might be able to gain access to the Connors house if he concentrated his charms on the old lady.
It might be harder than he thought, seeing as she was guarded by a beautiful, leggy bull-terrier by the name of Riley Jane Turner.
He’d spent the rest of the night after the gala working surveillance on the mansion, a stint that lasted from two until seven in the morning. There had appeared to be no unusual comings and goings by anyone, though Belinda hadn’t come home at all.
Todd Connors had sped home around four, obviously under the influence, and almost took off the right headlight of his Viper on the gate post. The kid was an ass.
Riley had left the mansion at seven the
following morning.
Rob followed her. She went for a walk in the park and had a coffee--something he’d been dying for--then headed off by city transit.
He knew that she was headed for Little Italy after three blocks of following her bus. Not feeling right about spying on Aggie’s place, Rob just went back to the hotel to catch a few hours of sleep.
Rob decided to meet Mary at the birthday party, though she’d called his hotel and offered him a lift in her limo. As he declined he’d wondered if the ever observant and wary Miss Jane Turner had been relieved about that.
The party was in full swing when he arrived. Old ladies in sequins outnumbered the other people five to one. There were quite a few eligible younger ladies there, but no Belinda. Mary had told her to come, but it appeared she’d defied orders.
Shit. Did nothing go right?
Rob looked over at Riley. She was chatting with a group of laughing women. She wore a pantsuit in a deep reddish shade. He was a bit color-blind so it may have been purple or something; all he knew was that the color brought out the red glints in her hair and made her greenish eyes gleam.
The outfit was tailored in a mannish-style that was probably meant to be understated. Maybe on another chick it would be. It skimmed over her beautiful body in all the right places. And the shoes were killer: high-heeled, strappy and definitely sexy. If he was in bed with her, he’d ask her to please leave them on.
He hadn’t said much to her yet. Not really his choice. She’d so far been polite, but distant, most likely uneasy. During his one chance to have Riley to himself, Rob had been dragged away by an enthusiastic Mary to be introduced to an endless conga-line of old ladies, all her friends, some of whom he’d met the previous night. He’d wanted to impress them, so had committed their names and faces to memory. His memory was exemplary, if he said so himself.
He’d wiped their powdery scent and lipstick off his face at least twenty times. Once during the ordeal he’d caught Riley watching him, her full lips quivering in suppressed mirth.
Rob had safely crossed the crowded living room, hoping to see if he could engage Riley in some polite conversation, when the room erupted in delighted female squeals. He thought about checking to see if his fly was at half-mast when he noticed a dude dressed like a chef, complete with the high poufy hat heading for the center of the room.
Oh, craptastic...
Someone turned up the volume on the stereo. The hat came off first, followed by a huge, thick wooden spoon the man pulled out of his baggy pants. Pretty original outfit for a stripper, but Rob decided then and there that he didn’t want to watch some other dude take off his clothes.
Otis had made him strip in a club once when he was starting out and the thought of it made him want to puke. Obviously Riley didn’t want to watch either. She averted her gaze, turned quickly and headed for the French doors that led onto the balcony.
Fascinated by her reaction, he followed her. The old ladies were far too busy watching the half-naked stripper bump and grind to take notice of Riley’s escape.
Did women actually get off on that pelvic thrusting stuff? Rob wondered. And if they did, why was Riley looking sick to her stomach rather than titillated? Maybe she knew the guy. He’d seen something in her eyes. Did they know each other? Did it have something to do with her aborted stint with that strip-o-gram service? He’d known about that before witnessing her encounter with Todd Connors last night.
He had a hard time believing she was ashamed of it. But even if she wasn’t ashamed, these people would make an issue of it. It was okay to watch someone take off their clothes for a giggle; it wasn’t okay to have one of these people live in your house.
Rob found her leaning against the balcony railing, her hand cradling her temple.
“Jane. Are you okay?” he said, feeling a flood of concern that unsettled him.
Riley almost jumped out of her skin when she saw Rob Murphy standing there. Oh, great, she thought. “I’m fine,” she managed. “I have a bad headache. Too much Joy and White Shoulders in there, I think.”
“White shoulders?” he said. “I guess that guy was a little pasty for a male stripper, wasn’t he? You’d expect he could spend a few of those bucks in his g-string and visit a tanning booth. As for joy? I wasn’t exactly getting off on it.”
Riley couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a closet dork, aren’t you?”
He smiled. “Possibly.”
“I meant the perfumes. White Shoulders. I hate the cloying smell of that stuff and half the old ladies in there bathe in it.”
“News to me. I don’t even know the names of any women’s perfumes. You have a very infectious laugh, Jane.”
“So I’ve been told. It doesn’t happen too often. So, you don’t give fine perfume as gifts to your lady friends, Rob?”
“Nope. I like women to smell like soap and themselves. Women like to get more personalized gifts anyway.”
“Oh? Do you buy them underwear?” she cracked.
“Gosh, golly, Jane, who needs underwear?”
That made Riley laugh again. She couldn’t help it, but she had to stop it now. Stop this attraction to him in its tracks.
He gave that wide, heart-melting grin of his. He was very appealing, she decided ruefully. No wonder Mary liked him. He had a good, twisted sense of humor and quite a lot of patience, even with sharp-tongued, stand-offish women.
Charm aside, she knew instinctively that he thrived on getting the upper hand with people. He liked to control the situation: was very obviously good at it. It was subtle, but it was there, in the stance of his perfect male form and the glint in those fathomless, onyx eyes.
He liked to call all the shots.
He was no dork. There was not a vulnerable, nerdy bone in his body despite the humor.
And she told herself that she hated that.
Maybe she only perceived this man as threatening because she was falling for his charm. A relaxed and entertaining alpha male, she decided, was definitely not what she wanted in her life.
“You can go back in if you like,” she told him.
“Back to that, are you?”
“What?”
“Dismissing me? I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind. Like I said, I’m not really into that weenie-wagging stuff.” He grimaced, puffing out his wide chest a little. She almost expected him to yank up his pants and spit.
“Too hetero, Robert?”
He gave her a crooked grin. “I’m just as God made me.”
Riley giggled. “That will be disappointing to Charles, the stripper, because he’s totally gay. I’ll bet he noticed you.”
“You know that guy, eh? I thought so.”
Riley sighed. Her hands, griping the rail, were white knuckled. “Yes, I did. A long time ago.”
“Feel like telling me? I promise I’ll keep it to myself.”
Riley shook her head.
But what the hell did it matter? “Todd wasn’t completely off-base about me. I never worked at a sleazy club, but I used to work with the same strip-o-gram service as Charles. Just a few parties. It was nothing sordid; maybe a little naughty, but enough to convince some people that I was ruined, I guess. I modeled for artists, too, at the community college.”
“You can’t be judged for that.”
“Oh, yes, I can be in this world. Your past always comes back to haunt you and I really don’t need it haunting me now.” Why she had just admitted all that to him, she didn’t know. She believed he wouldn’t tell Mary, but if he thought she was easy pickings now, he had another think coming.
“I take it Mary doesn’t know.”
“I know I have to tell her about it one day.”
“Do you have to do that?”
She stared at him. “I have to tell her. I lied.”
“You never lied. I think you’re one of the most honest people I’ve met.”
She grinned. “You might be a bad judge of character.”
“That’s possible. You omitted a few
things on your résumé. I don’t think it really matters, Jane,” he said gently. “You don’t need to explain yourself to anyone. Who you are now is what counts and you seem a pretty exceptional woman to me.”
What he said made a warmth bloom in her tummy. She bit her lip, rubbing her aching temples a little. She knew it was ridiculous to take his kindness as a personal endorsement. “Thank you, Robert. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Do you want me to get you something?”
“Pardon me?”
“For your headache?” he asked. “I’m sure the hostess has aspirin.”
“I’m fine. Just haven’t eaten in a while.”
“There’s a lot of food in there.”
“I’m not hungry for that fancy stuff. They put little bits of caviar on everything. I really hate sushi and dim sum and caviar. I have very unsophisticated tastes in food, I’m afraid.”
“Do you want to leave? I could take you home,” he suggested. “I have my rental car--”
“Mary will need me.”
“Mary’s having a wonderful time with her friends. If you’re ill, she’ll understand. It’s your day off anyway.”
“How do you know that?” Riley asked him. She looked at his profile, his bold nose in sharp relief, the lovely curve of his generous mouth and firm chin.
“Mary told me how unselfish you are about things like that, giving up your free time for her. There are still gifts to open before supper starts, apparently. Did you see the pile of gifts in there?”
Riley grinned. “Probably all naughty. I don’t know what to make of these old ladies.”
“You could help me out, if you wouldn’t mind?” he said.
“Help you out? How?” she asked cautiously. “Find some eligible woman you want to attract in there?”
He smirked over his shoulder. “Not in there. God, I only met one woman tonight who was under sixty.”
“Okay. She’s only sixty. So what’s stopping you?”
Rob grinned wider. “Well, she might give me a few good years. She was blabbing about how she runs marathons and eats only soy and crap like that.”
“No burgers? Give me the simple life when that wasn’t frowned upon.”
B. G. McCarthy - A Thief At Heart Page 5
